“You. Now, you listen to me. You’re going to be alone now, and you’re very bad at that. You’re going to be furious and you’re going to be sad, but listen to me. Don’t let this change you. No, listen. Whatever happens next… wherever she is sending you, I know what you’re capable of. You don’t be a warrior. Promise me. Be a Doctor.”
“What’s the point of being a Doctor if I can’t cure you?”
“Heal yourself. You have to. You can’t let this turn you into a monster. So… I’m not asking you for a promise. I’m giving you an order. You will not insult my memory. There will be no revenge. I will die, and no-one else, here or anywhere, will suffer.”
“What about me?”
“If there was something I could do about that, I would. I guess we’re both just going to have to be brave.”
Clara Oswald, to the 12th Doctor
So I kind of have this thing for metaphors.
I like pondering about the significance of things and comparing my relationships with people to ‘leaves falling away in the midst of autumn, too weary to keep holding on’. I spend a significant amount of time finding quotes on Goodreads and saving them in my blog (it’s like tumblr for non-teenagers, right?). Murakami is my religion because I too, believe that people’s hearts are like deep wells. When I need a pick-me-up on especially tough days, I read Billy Joel lyrics on google.
This particular habit is usually self-contained but once in a while, someone else comes up with a metaphor that I especially delight in, and it’s worth a blogpost.
Do you know someone who compliments you like this?
“I don’t like talking to so-and-so, they’re so annoying, but I like talking to you.”
“I don’t actually think a lot of other people smart, but I think you’re smart.”
“Girls in this city are so shallow, I’m glad you’re not like that.”
I really feel like I’m writing a lot but actually nothing ever makes it to the blog because I can’t seem to commit to making those thoughts ‘public’. So, why not a dump of Rick and Morty quotes that give me plausible deniability when it comes to expressing how I feel about life?
Wubba Lubba Dub Dub.
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
It’s like scarlet fever, one has to get it over.
Even though sometimes you annoy the shit out of me.
“Your vomit smells like anorexic girl.” Said my friend, the morning after a night of binge drinking which resulted in my throwing up on her brand new shoes.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that your vomit doesn’t stink. It smells sweet because there’s no food in your stomach.”
I felt oddly pleased with this comment.
The thing that bothers me about depression is that I fear I will be an easy murder target. Someone will just one day push me off a balcony or cliff, and the police will look at my medical history and assume, “Oh she was depressed, she must’ve committed suicide. LOL case closed.” and the murderer will get away without any investigation at all.
I haven’t been blogging a lot recently because I don’t feel well. Physically there isn’t anything wrong with me, I’m still maintaining a relatively healthy diet and exercising at least 3x a week – I try to get 8 hours of sleep a night and I drink lots of water. If muscles are any indication, I’m fine.